


The Contract

by Aguna91



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: 2Chapter from Slade's pov, Again serious, Cracky idea which grew serious, He is kind of pimping his son out, M/M, Written from the Bat's pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-08 14:20:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7761220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aguna91/pseuds/Aguna91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Set in the beginning of the Nightwing arc, Batman needs help to defeat an insane Superman. He decides to hire another human who had hold his ground against the Man of Steel before, Slade Wilson aka Deathstroke the Terminator.<br/>The mercenary is willing to help, for the right payment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: don't own

Bruce looked at the document on the desk before him.  
The wet letters seemed glitter accusingly in the dim light of the cave.  
It wasn't his proudest moment, yet he hadn't had much of a choice had he?

Clark Kent, aka Superman, had been drugged out of his mind and had gone into a psychotic rage.  
With a berserk Kryptonian Batman had needed a way to knock him out.  
The other members of the Justice League had been busy battling the alien who poisoned Clark,  
He hadn't called any of the younger heroes, Superman was still too strong for any of them,  
which had left the Dark Knight on his own.  
It would have been possible to wait for the other heroes, but every second had mattered with the unstable alien.  
An emergency plan, for any hero who for whatever reason went evil or insane, involved Deathstroke the Terminator.  
The mercenary had hold his ground against the whole League before, it should have been possible for the two of them to defeat the wayward hero.  
It had been.  
Unfocused in his rage Clark had been like a wounded animal, his attention had shifted seemingly randomly between the two of them.  
Coordinated through gestures, which the alien hadn't been able to comprehend in his state, and precise movement, they had won the fight without any causalities.  
Afterwards Superman had been safely locked away in a special cell in the Batcave.

Now, the mercenary sat across him with a disgustingly smug smile on his uncovered face.  
They knew each others identity, the only reason to wear a mask would be to hide their facial reactions.  
Slade had taken his mask off and Bruce had followed the unspoken challenge.  
The problem was that due the nature of the emergency they hadn't been able to specify his payment and the hero wasn't going to con him out of it.  
Such an attempt would only cause trouble currently.

“You could have money”, proposed the billionaire with a stoic face-  
“I have enough money”, answered the other lightly with the same smile still on his lips.  
“ I could give you access too a new security system Wayne Enterprise is developing”, offered Bruce again.  
“I have enough money to legally buy it”, replied the mercenary, unchanged in his demeanour.  
Money would have been too easy, wouldn't it?, complained the hero mentally.  
He knew what the other wanted, Slade's obsession with his oldest son was hardly a secret.  
Only his son didn't put himself out for sale.  
Dick was still a rather modest young man.  
Neither money nor some new piece of technology could really tempt him.  
The adrenaline Junkie was still honestly happy about a new motorbike and had several in Wayne Manor, but it was more of a “rich people habit” Bruce had helped him to cultivate.  
For a party with rather shallow small talk, an invested monologue about a new overpriced piece one was more than adequate and kept the other guests entertained.  
Dick might enjoy a little luxury here and there, but he didn't need it, yet his son was incredibly loyal too him.  
Even if the billionaire knew that he wasn't always that deserving of it.  
For example right now...

He had called Agent A, better known as the Wayne's family butler Alfred, with the request to sent Nightwing down in the cave.  
Slade's muscles slightly tensed, like a predator ready to pounce, and Bruce knew who had just entered the cave behind him.

“Boss?”, asked his son, obviously unsettled by their guest.  
Even with a mask the young hero displayed more uncontrolled emotion than the two unmasked men.  
“Deathstroke had assisted me with an emergency”, explained Bruce while his focus remained on the mercenary.  
The man in question was looking at his son, unbothered by the older hero's gaze.  
Nightwing's eyes were fixed on the backside of his father's head, as if he was trying to avoid the predatory gaze.  
“We are currently discussing his payment”, continued the billionaire and inwardly winced, he could practically hear the pin drop in his son's head.  
“What did you agree on?”, asked the acrobat in a forced clam tone.  
Bruce looked at the drying ink before him.  
Neither killing nor stealing.  
They could train, including the use of deadly violence like guns, and Slade might use him as his bought fuck toy  
But his son wouldn't suffer from any permanent damage or be forced to get a 'modification' like a tattoo as a mark of ownership.  
This was pretty much the content of the contract, just in the appropriate legal language.  
The mental consequences of enduring something like this shoved the older hero back in his mind.  
It was nothing more than an undercover mission wasn't it?  
Theoretically Nightwing could refuse, Deathstroke would honour it and become rather greedy in a payment Batman couldn't refuse.  
They would both need to get at least one lawyer for a long discussion about the proper wording and it's implications.  
The Dark Knight knew that he could depend on Dick's loyalty, that his boy would offer himself so he could cure Clark in peace.  
“He requested your obedience for four weeks”, answered Bruce finally and could hear a soft exhale behind him.  
“There will be no third party involved, nor are you going to be permanently hurt", he tried to reassure his son.  
That the duration of four weeks included an extra favour from Deathstroke wasn't something he would specifically tell his boy.  
Dick could read the contract, yet as expected he signed the contract without reading it.  
He truly didn't deserve such a loyal son.


	2. First day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Wayne bought Deathstroke's help for a fight against Superman. Second chapter is the dinner in which Slade receives his payment and decides how to play with Dick in front of Bruce.

Three men sat in silence at the table in a dining room of Wayne Manor.  
Bruce Wayne in an expensive suit which he wore like an armour, while his ward wore a well tailored t-shirt, trousers and a pair of good leather shoes.  
Slade Wilson, dressed comparable with Dick, watched the two heroes opposite to him.  
They were waiting for eight o'clock, the moment in which Slade's ownership of the acrobat would begin.  
Both heroes seemed as emotionless as statues, something which was very unusual for the otherwise vibrant young hero.  
The mercenary knew that Dick did it for his mentor.  
Theoretically the young man understood his mentor's reasoning.  
A berserk alien could have caused many deaths and the terror after such an event would have had terrible consequences, especially with Luthor as a 'concerned citizen'.  
A donation here and there so the media would cover the story in detail would have caused a huge backlash for not only Superman, but all the other none human heroes, too.  
Yet it didn't change the fact that his guardian had rented him out like an object which could be used and discarded at will.  
He resented him for it while he told himself he shouldn't.

Slade knew that Nightwing was hurt and personally disliked his stoic attitude so he thought about his next steps.  
The point of the contract had been to show Dick how little Bruce truly cared about him.  
That his mentor was willing to let others use him for his own gain.  
Maybe not everyday, yet one Barry West had gotten the Batmobile for a joyride after a nasty fight before and now Slade had gotten the man's ward for a 'joyride', too.  
Nightwing was an important asset for the Bat with some emotional value, just like his famous car, but obviously nothing more.  
Now he had bought, or rather rented him.  
How should he act?

The young man's submissive behaviour before his mentor made it clear that he needed a proper dominate partner who would take care of him.  
Considering he wasn't only one who noticed it, it couldn't be simple wishful thinking on his part.   
He really liked the younger hero, lusted after his body and respected his skills.  
Too much cruelty would ruin any chance of a healthy relationship in the future.  
Yet he couldn't be too nice to his bird either, his mentor had used him and Dick needed to feel it.

One thing came easily to his mind, the hero hated it to call him Master.  
The two had some history, during Dick's time as the Teen Titans leader Slade had blackmailed him into an apprenticeship.  
Acknowledging him aloud as his superior had been a simple but effective method to establish him as the boy's new mentor.  
Furthermore he had enjoyed it, maybe a little too much with the teenager, to force the word past his unwilling lips.'  
With that in mind he carefully picked his next words.

"Kiss me on the lips", ordered the mercenary softly as the bells started to chime, signalling the start of their time together.  
Mechanically the young hero rose from his place without looking at anybody, his eyes were focused on a point at the wall and didn't betray any of his emotions.  
He walked around the table and stood before his still seated owner.  
Dick leaned downwards and their lips meet without any passion.  
Slade imaged that kissing a still warm corpse must be similar to this, but it was worth the small spark he saw in the beautiful blue eyes.  
Nightwing had followed his orders and still managed to rebel by exactly doing as he had been told to.   
It was an old strategy which was used by many employees who wanted to annoy their superiors.

Slade moved his chair slightly away from the table, unbothered by eyes who watched every move he made.  
“Sit on my lap”, he ordered softly and Dick complied.  
He sat rigidly on his knees, carefully not to brush against his private parts.

"Kiss me on the lips, like you want to devour me," he ordered again and watched as the small spark became brighter and turned into an angry fire.  
He pulled Dick closer towards him as the hero attacked his mouth in a savage manner.  
More teeth than necessary grazed his sensitive lips, but he didn't fight back.  
The pain as the skin broke was nothing compared too the glimmer of satisfaction in the acrobat's eyes as he slowly licked the blood from his own lips.

Blue eyes finally meet his gaze is an open challenge and the mercenary tried to keep a neutral expression so he wouldn't startle his pet.  
Neither despair nor disdain were in Nightwing's eyes, which provided him with actual consent unlike the practically forced contract.  
He hadn't planned to rape him, even with the permission from his mentor, but a challenge to go further, that worked just fine for him.  
"Kiss me on the lips, carefully not to draw blood but still with passion".   
The command was meet with a hint of anger, yet the fire was still there.  
The acrobat most likely thought about new ways to rebel, which would allow him to punish his misbehaviour.  
Slade would only to punish Dick when he either needed it or realised that he wanted it. 

Their lips meet and Slade fully returned the kiss this time, their tongues battled for dominance while his hands wandered on his distracted property.  
His left hand was firmly on Dick's hip and forced him closer while his right roughly massaged his inner thigh.  
He released his pet's lips and didn't show his satisfaction as he unconsciously leaned into chest.  
The acrobat loved physical contact, needed it like oxygen, something which could easily turned against him.

"You take orders very literal", purred the older man while his right hand wandered upwards, just below Dick's covered cock.  
"Better to learn it now, before they are on a more sensitive part of my anatomy", taunted Slade but only good an unimpressed look in return.  
He knew it wasn't demanding too much.  
Nightwing was a performer and liked to please, the rumour that it seemed as if he preferred to use his mouth to pleasure others instead to receiving it was well known in the little community of disguised fighters.

"How long did you plan to stay", interrupted Bruce their unspoken conversation with a slight edge in his voice. They clearly weren't welcome here.  
The body in his lap stiffened and the younger man lowered his gaze so he could avoid eye contact with the others, unlike Slade who meet the Dark Knight's cold gaze.  
So far Dick seemed comfortable with their intimacy and the promise of more, just not in front of the man who had sold him.

"Once we finished everything here", answered the mercenary in a causal tone while he continued to massage his pet in a softer, almost soothing manner.  
He couldn't just leave after Wayne had demanded it, both heroes needed to see who was in charge.  
" First of all Dick needs to change into something more appropriate", continued Slade and watched satisfied as the others tensed.

"What is wrong with his clothing now?", asked the billionaire sharply in an attempt to regain control.

"I won't dress my property with things someone else bought", replied Slade and ignored Dick's flinch. Dick should enjoy their sex, but he needed to understand that they weren't equals in this.  
"Stand up, strip and keep your eyes on your mentor's", ordered the mercenary.  
They would have time for games later, the contract hadn't had a word about cameras and Slade really liked the idea of a little porn collection with his favourite hero to keep him warm at night.  
A seductive strip show would fit there perfectly, but this now was about pure dominance.

Once again like a puppet, Dick rose mechanically and started to remove his clothing with a blank expression on his face.  
He folded them neatly, laid them on a free chair and waited fur his next order.  
Bruce didn't turn away, he had to know that his ward would suffer if he didn't look, and watched detached as he undressed.  
That Nightwing was turned towards his guardian gave Slade an excellent view on his ass and the older man gave it a firm squeeze.  
Unprepared the young hero gasped slightly but kept his eyes on his mentor, a slight blush on his cheeks betrayed that he wasn't unaffected by the situation.

"From now on you will answer commands with 'yes Master' until I tell you otherwise. You wore clothing without permission so I will punish you with twenty slaps and you will thank me for each one with the words 'thank you Master'. During your punishment you will continue to look at your mentor. Do you understand pet?", questioned the mercenary in a low voice.  
"Yes, Master", answered Dick with a slight hitch in his voice. Whenever it was from unwanted lust which caused him to feel humiliation or pure humiliation without lust didn't matter at the moment.

Slade removed his hand slowly and slapped the right cheek roughly, the sound of flesh against flesh was obscenely loud in the quiet room.  
Blood reddened the skin below his hand, he wondered how many he needed to leave his handprint behind.  
Nightwing needed a moment, "thank you, Master", was forced past his lips with obvious disdain.

Mockingly he caressed the cheek softly before he slapped it again.  
Dick's unwillingness to address him by his proper title angered the mercenary, but it didn't surprise him.   
So he took it a step further, after he had heard the words, his index finger teased the crack between the two beautiful cheeks.  
The acrobat tensed with a hint of fear, but relaxed as the hand was removed without penetrating him.  
If Slade wanted to he could fuck him here on the table in front of his mentor.  
With the unspoken threat in the air, the next 'thank you, Master' , became a little more believable in an effort to appease him.  
It wasn't the best result, Dick leaning into his hand begging to be touched any way his master deemed appropriate would have been, but that he seemed to understand how he should request anything was a start.


End file.
